"Who are
these? Not the first-fruits of the night, eh?"
The Vidame looked darkly at him. "No," he answered brusquely.
"They are not. I am not particular out of doors, Coadjutor, as
you know, but this is my house, and we are going to supper.
Perhaps you do not comprehend the distinction. Still it exists
--for me," with a sneer.
This was as good as Greek to us. But I so shrank from the
priest's malignant eyes, which would not quit us, and felt so
much disgust mingled with my anger that when Bezers by a gesture
invited me to sit down, I drew back. "I will not eat with you,"
I said sullenly; speaking out of a kind of dull obstinacy, or
perhaps a childish petulance.
It did not occur to me that this would pierce the Vidame's
armour. Yet a dull red showed for an instant in his cheek, and
he eyed me with a look, that was not all ferocity, though the
veins in his great temples swelled. A moment, nevertheless, and
he was himself again. "Armand," he said quietly to the servant,
"these gentlemen will not sup with me.
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